


I only sing for you

by Patchwork_Quilt



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: After the mountain, Angst, Comfort, Fae Jaskier, Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, angst will a happy ending, minor character injuries, nonhuman jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:33:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29000748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patchwork_Quilt/pseuds/Patchwork_Quilt
Summary: After the mountain Jaskier decides to quit singing, and to quit being a bard since it’s what caused his heart to break and ruined his life. He can’t go home and be Julian again, that’s not his home. His home is next to Roach with the white wolf. But that path doesn’t exist for him anymore.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 162





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Geralt Jaskier Big Bang
> 
> I want to thank iithril for the wonderful art that they made for this fic!!  
> https://www.deviantart.com/iithril/art/I-only-sing-for-you-Illustration-868322648

As soon as the harsh words left his lips and he saw the pain and heart break in the bard’s cornflower blue eyes, he knew he fucked up. He regretted it and wished he could take it all back, his heart and soul told him, begged him to turn around and apologize. To dry the tears of his, “no not his anymore” he reminded himself, the bard. But he just kept walking. He walked until the bard couldn’t see him anymore, meeting back up with Yennifer. Her arms were crossed. “What the fuck Geralt,” she said with a scowl. Walking a half step in front of the Witcher, she paused and drove her elbow into his stomach hard. Even through the armor it was enough to cause him to let out a small “oof”. 

“You just lost the one person who genuinely cared about you.” 

Geralt let out a low growl. “It’s better this way, he’s a human. Better he doesn’t waste his short life tagging behind a witcher.” 

Yennifer let out a quiet laugh at the word “human.” She didn’t say anything, it was must more interesting for Geralt to figure out things on his own. She created a portal and left, leaving Geralt to his own miserable self. He stomped down the mountain to where roach was. She looked at him, but she didn’t say much. She is a horse after all, but her gaze said everything. She looked for the familiar colorful bouncing bard, letting out a disappointed sigh when he didn’t show himself. 

“Now don’t you start.” Geralt grumbled, he swung his muscular legs up sitting on Roach. He nudged her side and rode off.

—

If looks could kill, the White Wolf would be dead. Jaskier gave him his nastiest scowl as he held back tears. As soon as he couldn’t see his white hair anymore, he broke into a sob. Aggressively rubbing his eyes, he slowly made his way down the mountain. He cursed at himself, swearing in a tongue ancient and long forgotten by humans. 

He reached the bottom of the mountain, the bag that held his clothes sitting where roach once stood. He let out another sob, picking the bag up and starting on his own way. 

The lute in his back felt heavy. It was the last thing he wanted with him. He pulled the bag off his back, opening it, and breaking the lute over his knee. In that moment he made up his mind. He wouldn’t sing a cord again, never play another note on a lute, never write another rhyme. He would no longer be Jaskier the bard,since being a bard only caused him problems. It caused his heart to break, and ruin his life. He couldn’t go “home” and be Julian again. For that wasn’t his home, his home was next to Roach. Next to the White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, the Witcher Geralt of Rivia. But that path didn’t exist for him, not anymore, at least. 

He could go back to being Dandelion, a name only his sister and Geralt called him. A name that held more power then Geralt knew. A silly nickname, or at least that’s what he convinced the Witcher. 

He walked through a forest path until he found a place to make camp. He was already putting a plan to get to the next town as soon as he could. He’d go wherever the fuck he wanted to. Maybe he would go east, to the coast. But, something in his gut told him that east was not the direction to go. He was going to head north, at a slow pace to start. With plenty of breaks and rest, no longer having to follow the Witcher’s tight schedule. 


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt had headed north east. He had some time before winter, and without Jask- the bard helping earn coin, he would need all the contracts he could get. He couldn’t bear to even think about him, let alone say his name. Gerlat knew he had fucked up. He wanted nothing more than to find the bard and hold him close, but he doubted he would ever get the chance. 

He made sure to stop in every village to cross his path, asking if a bard had come through recently, but no one had seen or heard a bard. But why did he care? The bard had been annoying and loud and a distraction this whole time. He didn’t have to stop and rest or eat all the time. Didn’t have to worry about someone else, let alone have someone else worry about him. Maybe he was glad the bard was gone. He didn’t need silly tunes and musical sounds to calm him down and fill the all too quiet silence. 

This village had one decent contract. Some drowners in the near by river. He got a room at an inn for the night till the next day. leaving roach in the stable, he didn’t need her for this hunt. He couldn’t risk loosing her too. He quickly pushes that thought out of his mind and sets off. It was a quick fight. He managed to come away with only a few small cuts and bruises. The alderman skimped him on his payment. He missed the bard’s silver tongue. If he were here he would have gotten the money he deserved. 

Geralt shakes his head, as he enters the inn. 

The Witcher could not wait for winter. To go to the keep and forget all about the bard. His- no, the stubborn Dandelion. 

He needed the rest. As much as he hated to admit it. Roach needed to rest too. Soon it would be winter and the path to Kaer Morhen would be a treacherous one. He walked into the room at the inn. Peeling his armor off, he sat on the edge of a bed, almost as if he was waiting for someone. But no one came. He sighed, remembering he was alone, and added ointment to his own cuts and bruises. 

He was alone, by himself. He let out another sigh, and did something no one has ever heard and he hopes never will hear him do. He began to sing. His voice was low and gruff, he sang one of Jaskier’s songs. He knew he wouldn’t do it justice. It brought some comfort, but mostly it brought pain. In the middle of a line his voice broke into a low sob. As he sang the lyrics “I’m weak my love, and I am wanting,” he let out a quiet whine. He couldn’t deny it anymore, he wanted the bard back in his life. It was too quiet, too empty without him. He couldn’t bear to stay in the inn. He hated it, and he didn’t need to sleep in a human room in a human bed. He gathered his things and left, saddling Roach he rode out onto the path. Once they reached the cover of trees he slowed a bit, looking for a clearing to camp in. His eyes suddenly spotted strips of beautiful red fabric, embossed with beautiful patterns. Two of the pieces were just strands of red triangles. He pulled the fabric down from the branches. They smelled of chamomile and lavender, they smelled of  _ him _ . Of Dandelion, of Jaskier. He prayed to the gods that the bard was alright, that maybe his doublet just got caught or something. He made camp for the night, dreams full of Jaskier. 

——- Jaskier was in the next village over. They were so close to eachother yet so far away. 

——-

Jaskier entered the inn, only to realize he had no coin for a meal or a room. But that didn’t matter. He walked up to the innkeeper and asked for some food and a room, his cornflower eyes glowing a soft blue as he spoke. The innkeeper nodded and gave him the key, not even asking about coin. He grinned as he walked up the stairs. It felt good to be able to use his powers more then he used to. He used to just use it to help the Witcher get the right amount of coin, or to make sure they got ale and a room.

He took his red doublet off; he hadn’t had time or money to buy new clothes. It was a shame, really. He sold all the others to afford what he could. He looked down at the dirty red fabric- he hated it. A reminder of his old life. Of the mountain, of the music. He pulled the dagger from his boot and tore the doublet to shreds. He threw the pieces out the window, where they blew away on the wind. Jaskier doesn’t know where they end up. But they landed on some low hanging branches of trees on the path. 

Jaskier sighed, now only in his undershirt and trousers. He didn’t mind, he stood out less. Sure, his pants were still the same red, but it was less distracting and attention grabbing. He settled into the bed alone. He shivered only slightly. Winter would be here soon. 


	3. Chapter 3

Jaskier had been on the road a couple of days since he destroyed his doubet, and it has only gotten colder. It had rained the past two days, and yesterday it had started to snow. Jaskier was soaking wet and freezing cold, but he kept walking. He didn’t have the coin or the energy to get a horse. He stopped when something fell out of his bag. It was his journal of all the tunes he’s written. 

He’s used most of the pages for kindling. The last pages had possibly his most famous song in them. He ripped them out and let the wind take them, then threw the empty leather cover to the ground. He had to start a fire, so he pulled the dagger out and started to cut some sticks and branches out of the trees. He piles them up and tries to cast a fire spell. Any one would do. He settles on the one he’s seen billions of times, Igni. 

He casts the sign, his mind focused on how the fire was going to feel so warm and good, and not focused on actually casting the spell. He feels the fire and burning warmth but does not see it. He looks at his hand and yelps. The spell stops as he thrusts his burnt hand onto the snow. He stands up and kicks the wood. Mid-kick, he looses his footing in the snow, and slipping on ice, he falls into a briar bush. The thorns wedge into his skin. He yelps in pain, his knife slipping out of his hand and skims down his calf. He starts bleeding. It’s so cold, and he’s so tired and in so much pain. He blinks and the world goes black. 

——-

Geralt walks next to Roach. They were on their way to Kaer Morhen. His clothes were wet, but he wasn’t that cold- he had dry clothes in one of his bags. But, he didn’t want to rest yet. His eyes caught sight of something on the wind. Pieces of paper blew around him. He reached out a hand and caught a piece. His golden eyes scanned the paper, which had the lyrics from a song. Tears pool at the corner of his eyes as he mouths the words, “when a humble bard Graced to ride along with Geralt of Rivia, along came this song.” 

He put the papers in a pocket on one of Roach’s saddle bags. His eyes looked up the road ahead and he saw the leather journal cover discarded near some sticks. He smelled the air- chamomile and lavender… Jaskier. But something else, he smelt blood. Something in his blood ran cold and he lead roach up the path quickly.   
He saw a pale legs decorated by bright red pants, one leg had a long cut running down it. He ran forward to the bush. 

“Jaskier!” He whimpered as he saw the bard’s face. He had rips in his clothes, and a thin shirt on. He was cut and scraped up. He reached into the brambles and pulled Jaskier out. The thorns scratch his hands but he doesn’t care. The bard still had a heartbeat. His—the bard was still alive. His own slow heart seemed to skip a beat. He set the bard down gently, getting out his dry cloak and wrapping it around him. 

“I’m so sorry, Jask,” he whined out, picking the bard back up. He would carry him all the way to the keep. He had his bard back, and he wouldn’t let anything take him away from him. But as soon as he thought that and he was filled with relief, he realized... What if Jaskier didn’t want him? What if the bard hated him so much he couldn’t stand seeing him again? He fought back tears, and realized where he was. 

This was the cross roads where him and Jaskier would part ways every winter. Except, not this one. This winter, Geralt would be taking the bard with him. He didn’t stop at the last few villages, since he didn’t want to slow his journey any more. And he started the last leg of the path. He would be home soon. Even though he wasn’t at the keep,he already felt like he was at home, with Jaskier in his arms.


	4. Chapter 4

Geralt held the bard close to his chest. He was glad Roach knew the way and he didn’t have to tightly watch her. 

As he reached the gate two other men rushed out to greet him. A wolf and a griffin. It seemed Coën had gotten there first this year. 

“Welcome back white wolf…” said Vesemir, now looking at the unconscious bard in Geralt’s arms.   
“Is that your bard?” The griffin witcher asked, and Geralt pushed past. “Yes- no, not anymore. I don’t know!” he huffed. The white-haired witcher headed straight to his room, gathering blankets and water pitchers. Anything to help his Dandalion. 

The cut on his leg seemed to have closed up, as it wasn’t a deep cut. Geralt didn’t seem to notice the light buzzing of his pendant. He stayed by the bards side the whole time, only leaving to eat. At one point Vesemir comes in. 

“We have to talk about your bard.” Geralt’s eyes travel from the bards face up to the older Witcher.   
“Hm?” He replied, his gaze moving back to Jaskier.   
“He’s not human, Geralt. As soon as he passed the threshold our pendants have been active. They have settled down now, but he’s not human. Look at him, look at him closely.” 

Geralt sighed, and shook his head. Jaskier was human, that’s what he thought, what he knew. But he looked closely, he never noticed how the bards ears were pointy near the top. Jaksier’s mouth opened as he let a deep breath out, his teeth more like fangs then dull human teeth. 

Geralt breathed in the sent of the bard. Chamomile and lavender. It’s like he was seeing him for the first time with new eyes. He noticed every inhuman feature. He didn’t think it was possible but somehow his love for Jaskier grew.   
His bard was like him, not human. 

——  
Jaskier was awaken from his sleep by the sound of laughter and yelling.   
“HE’S A CAT, OF COURSE HE CHEATED,” shouted one voice.  
“I dunno Eskel, maybe you’re just shit at Gwent and my awesome kitty is just better then you,” said a smug voice.  
“Your coin, hand it over.” said a third voice, the one the yelling was directed at.   
“Okay but why is he here?” Now that was a voice that Jaskier knew. Hearing it felt like a gut punch, and he let out a high pitched whine. The voices went silent and the sound of heavy boots running up stairs replaced it. 

The door swung open, and Jaskier suddenly felt a storm of emotions. There stood the Butcher of Blaviken, Geralt of Rivia. He looked tired, his hair a tangled mess. His orange eyes full of emotion as well. The Witcher stood there, not sure what to say. 

Jaksier didn’t give him a chance to figure it out. He jumped out of bed, and started to rip the White Wolf a new one. 

“You absolute asshole! Oh, so you leave me on one mountain telling me you wish me dead, only to kidnap me and bring me to another one! I already felt as if I didn’t belong, you practically mewling over the witch. Witcher is a fine title for you!” 

Geralt let out a whimper and his eyes looked like those of a forlorn puppy. He rummaged through a bag and pulled out the strips of red fabric,   
“Jask- I, I’m sorry.” He mumbled out, he tied the fabric together and untied it. “You were unconscious and bleeding in the snow… I couldn’t leave you… I don’t want to leave you.”   
“Well, you did leave me! But guess what, you get your other wish. You’ll never have to hear the horrid songs again. No more ‘Toss a Coin to Your Bitcher.’ No more ‘Her Sweet Kiss.’ None of it.”   
At this tears started to pool at the corners of Geralt’s eyes. Jaksier’s rage was the second-worst thing he ever experienced. But at least the Witcher could hear his voice again.   
“Dandelion… please,” the taller man whines out. And Jaskier stopped. He looked up at Geralt and started to cry. “I’m sor-.” Jaskier went to mutter, but he was cut short by strong arms pulling him into a hug. 

“I’m never leaving you again. My bard, my little lark, my Dandelion.”   
Jaskier let out a sigh, “I’m not a bard anymore. I have nothing but my voice left. No lute, no journals.” Geralt put him down and ran over to a bag. He pulled out a journal, which had two loose pages tucked into it. 

“I… I wrote down what I could remember. I don’t know music notes. But I remembered most of the words.” He handed the book to Jaksier who opened it. There were missing words and mistakes, sure, but Geralt had remembered. Which meant Geralt had been listening this whole time. Jaksier jumped up and hugged him.   
Geralt went “hmr” in response. 

“There is something else… I’m not a human, Geralt. I’m Fae. And I understand if you want nothing to do with me again. I’m just like the monst-“ Geralt cut him off by giving him a light kiss. Jaksier was startled but kissed back harder, more needy. Like his life depended on it. And Geralt kisses back, letting out a small purr.


	5. Chapter 5

Jaskier was happy. He had his home back. And Kaer Morhen was good too. He beat Aiden= that was the name of the cat Witcher, he found out- in a game of Gwent. He’s pretty sure he let him win. He watched the goats with Eskel, and got to read and study ancient scrolls and stories with Vesemir. All of the Witchers welcomed him. And he was happy. 

—- 

Geralt felt joy swell in his chest every time he saw Jaskier.  _ His _ Jaskier. He promised him that as soon as it was spring he would buy him a new lute. He smiled as he watched his brothers in arms interact with his bard. 

On a cold night he climbed into bed next to Jaksier and held him close. Close to his chest, to his heart. A heart that Jaksier owned. He pressed kisses into the bards jaw and hummed with satisfaction at the bard’s smile and joy. Jaskier was happy, and that made Geralt happy. 

Jaskier was out helping Lambert and Aiden cook. Gods knew Lambert needed the help. He started to sing, knowing he was alone. He sung the words of Toss a Coin, in his deep baratone, gruff voice. He didn’t hear the door open and close, but he did hear the sound of a gasp. 

He turned around and there stood Jaksier with a big, goofy grin on his face. “I didn’t know you could sing.” 

“Only your songs, bard.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I hoped you enjoyed!


End file.
